


One Night Together

by tayloutho



Category: Beatles, John Lennon - Fandom
Genre: F/M, One Night Stand, One Shot, Party, flirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 20:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19911739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayloutho/pseuds/tayloutho
Summary: When Ellie Arlough is dragged away from her mountains of homework and into a smoky, chaotic party, the last thing she expects is to end up in with with a boy. The second to last thing she expected was for that boy to be John Lennon.





	One Night Together

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It’s my first time posting on here and I’m very excited :) please leave any comments you have, feedback is greatly appreciated! 
> 
> This is just a little story I wrote on a long bus ride. I hope you enjoy :)

“Elle, you have to go to this party tonight.” Ruth informed me as I turned over a page of my seemingly endless chemistry notes. Remarkably, I still failed to comprehend the concepts of biochemistry despite hours upon hours of studying.  
“Ruth,” I moaned miserably, laying my head sideways across the textbook disheartenedly, “I really can’t. You know that. My parents…”  
From my sideways perspective, I watched as she stood in front of the vanity mirror, fluffing out her already voluminous head of long, bronze curls that I couldn’t help but covet. Her bright blue eyes rolled into her head at my words, eyelids fluttering in annoyance before she turned away from her reflection and towards me in the dimly lit dorm room.  
“Tell me,” her painted dark red lips tugged upwards, perfectly tweezed eyebrows raised, “when was the last time you went to a party, Miss University girl?”  
“I don’t know,” I sighed, the corners of my mouth twitching in the preliminary stages of a smile. “Miss University girl yourself,” I snorted. “That’s not all university is for, you know. You’d do well to follow my example,” I said, cringing at my own words as they came out of my mouth.  
“You make me gag.”  
I make myself gag, too, I thought. “Then go away and let me study,” I said instead.  
Ruth gave me a playful side-eye, knowing me well enough to realize that my mind could be changed with a bit of persuasion. “Where is the fun, party-going girl that I knew and loved in high school?” One of her slim fingers prodded my ribs, making me squirm in discomfort.  
“Stop that! Your nails are too long to be poking somebody like that!” The gesture, however painful it was, set my grin in full effect. Yet somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware that couldn’t be that girl anymore, not here, not after I’d promised my parents that I would make more of an effort to behave and start to focus more on my career. I didn’t want to live like a college drop-out for the rest of my life.  
Ruth’s heavily-lined eyelids fluttered again in exasperation, a reaction that habitually followed pretty much anything I said these days.  
Her eyes were set disapprovingly on my sweatpants and messy hair, “You just need a pick me up.” Ruth spun on her heel and reached into her closet, quickly re-emerging with a simple, black slip dress, a pair of hot pink stilettos, and an enormous grin. “Party starts at five, love, be ready in twenty, okay?”

It was a regular evening by the standards of Liverpool, England. The all-inclusive fog, chill, and slight drizzle were in full effect so I desperately longed to go back inside to the warm dorm room away from the biting breeze.  
“Ruth, what kind of party is this exactly?” I asked, trying to distract myself. I couldn’t help but shiver and wish that I had brought a jacket.  
She turned to me with an excited smile, apparently oblivious to the intense October chill. “A birthday party. Some musical boy from the Academy. Stuart’s friends with him.”  
I tried not to let the mention of Stuart further dampen my spirits. Not only was I forced into this party but now I was going to be all alone. Stuart and Ruth had been dating for around two months now, and Ruth was utterly, hopelessly obsessed and thus never stopped talking to or about him. Lanky, reserved, and haughty, Stuart was her absolute “dream guy”. Ruth was also convinced that anybody attending the Arts Academy was automatically superior to the normal population of people, having the potential for artistic fame and more likely to be the romantic type. Supposedly. Therefore, her landing an Academy boy was an extreme feat that deserved infinite amounts of attention. Despite my dampened spirits, I smiled and nodded, willing myself to be excited about the party regardless if Ruth’s artsy boyfriend was going.  
The taxi finally arrived, and we climbed in hurriedly. The warmth of the interior immediately made my numb hands have the sensation of melting.  
Ruth nudged me playfully in the cramped backseat. “We’re finding you a boyfriend tonight,” she told me as if she could read my thoughts. Her makeup painted bold, feminine lines and shadows on her face even in the dimly lit interior of the cab, making me feel for an instant that I wasn’t wearing enough. I hated feeling like a mere shadow of Ruth when we went out.  
“Do I look okay?” I asked, ignoring the remark to avoid getting my hopes up.  
Ruth’s eyes scanned my face, her lips tugging upwards into a smile. “Elle, you look fab. Sexy. That red lipstick is really working for you.”  
“Have to say the same to you,” I nudged her back, grateful for her companionship.  
“Oh, stop it,” she said teasingly. “I think we’re here.”  
My heart skipped a beat and I felt my face flush, apparently a few years away from the party scene hadn’t made the idea of it any less thrillingly daunting. And then there was the prospect of meeting someone. I’d been single for so long, and craved the attention of a boy so badly, I couldn’t help but desire an Academy boy for myself either. Maybe I would loosen up after a few drinks.  
The brick house was a one-story and looked cute and simple on the outside. We paid the driver and hurried up the walkway through the frigid air to the front door. I pulled at the hem of my dress self-consciously. It was a little shorter than what I normally deemed comfortable, but the sheer black stockings I wore underneath helped a little to lessen my uneasiness. I shivered as we paused for a second before entering and Ruth began digging around in her handbag for something.  
Finally, her hand resurfaced, containing two pills. “One for me, one for you,” she said, grinning, her eyes bright.  
My hand shot out eagerly, a part of me excited by the mystery and wrongness of drugs. Before my more sensible conscience could retract my hand, a large white pill was placed in the palm. “What are these?” I asked, looking at my friend questionably.  
Ruth took hers without water. “It’ll give you energy,” she told me after swallowing without a trace of discomfort. “It’ll make you feel a little bit… lighter. Trust me, all these art students do it, and aren’t they hip? Take it. Goodness knows you need it.”  
Even though it still felt a little dubious, I swallowed the pill anyways and into the chaos we went.  
The front room was foggy with the cigarette smoke of about thirty people milling around conversing and smoking with one another. Ruth’s eyes scanned the crowd immediately for Stuart, presumably. Loud rock music played in the background, creating an overwhelming environment for my sensual stimuli. I tried to not overthink it, wanting myself to be able to enjoy the party so badly. I did deserve this. I worked hard. I needed to have fun too, right?  
“Stuart!” Ruth’s exclamation was an abrupt assault against my eardrums. I could feel the energy and excitement pulsating off of her in waves as the darkly-clothed, messy-haired Stuart Sutcliffe parted the crowd in his wake to meet his girlfriend. They kissed once he reached her, I looked away.  
I took my discomfort as an opportunity to get more of a feel for my surroundings. The room was a bit dingy looking with the pale cream colored couch and outdated floral wallpaper, but one could tell that it was well-kept and coordinated. As my eyes drifted to the center of the room, there stood a young man completely surrounded by scantily-clad females who were seemingly trying desperately to get his attention. But his attention was behind them. His bespectacled eyes, or perhaps better said, the eyes behind a pair of hip, darkly rimmed Buddy Holly glasses, were scanning the room as well. The longer I stared, the more I noticed different features about him that made him seem so… juvenile. What with all the Elvis paraphernalia. The hair, the leather jacket, the Chelsea boots. Despite this, he was truly fascinating to observe, clearly the center of attention, well-capable of entertaining a crowd. A few moments passed before I realized he was staring back at me.  
“Elle,” Ruth’s voice cut through my thoughts almost as roughly as her fingers tapping on my shoulder had. “Stu just asked you how your studies are going.”  
Although she was probably not meaning to, Ruth’s tone was condescending and made me feel like a child in trouble.  
I forced my eyes to meet his after casting a dark glare at her. “Great,” I lied, trying not to clench my jaw too much.  
Stuart’s thick dark eyebrows rose, creating little lines and divots in his forehead. He and my best friend shared a look “Well, I’m sure glad to see you out.”  
“I’m glad to be out,” I told him, meaning it. “Thanks for the invite.”  
He grinned at me, wrapping his arm around Ruth’s slender shoulders. “My pleasure. From what I hear, you could really use a break.”  
“I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” Ruth‘s gaze was piercing. Luckily she only seemed a little phased by my previous sourness. .  
“Okay, see you later.” I felt my heart beat quicken. Parties by themselves were already intimidating, but facing one of this potency by myself threatened evacuation.  
She winked back at me while Stuart began to lead her away into the heart of the crowd. The door wasn’t that far away, and Ruth wouldn’t notice…  
“You look lost,” a haughty, uniquely accented voice came from somewhere above the top of my head.  
I followed a male’s body up to meet a pair of bright chestnut eyes that peered behind a pair of those Buddy Holly glasses. My voice caught in my throat- him. Immediately I could tell he was an Academy boy- only Academy boys wore collared shirts with a tie. I subconsciously tucked a strand of my light hair behind my ear out of anxiety, but almost immediately fluffed it out again, the voice of my mother in my head telling me that it wasn’t an attractive look. girls should let their hair tumble around their shoulders and frame their face.  
“Hello,” my voice was surprisingly confident despite the flicker of nerves in my gut at this male attention. Maybe Ruth’s pills were beginning to kick in....  
“Hello,” he said in response, lips curled in an amused smile. “Can I get you a drink?”  
I nodded, not wanting to trust my voice again.  
To my great surprise, his hand took hold of my own, leading me out of the sea of people in front room and into the clean, quiet kitchen. “What do you like?” He asked, his voice sing-song, turning to face me but keeping my hand in his. His fingers were strong yet nimble, his hands soft.  
In the more brightly-lit kitchen, I could observe him more clearly. Our faces only inches apart, his eyelashes were long, his hair a light brown, his face well-structured, his nose uniquely shaped, yet attractive.  
“What do you have?” I inquired, leaning forward on the wooden countertop and tilting my head to the side, starting to feel the effects of whatever drug Ruth had given me replace the butterflies in my gut with a suave confidence.  
“You name it, I’ll get it.”  
“I like how you operate,” Iwinked at him, seriously questioning my sanity immediately afterwards. “Brandy, please, sir.”  
“I like how you operate,” he replied, his eyes alight, “especially the “sir” bit,” he remarked, winking.  
With a sudden change in volume, he called into the empty kitchen. “She knows what she wants!” His voice was comically enthusiastic, his accent an exaggerated mockery of proper English. He smelled like sea-spice and a bit of weed- excitement. “One brandy for the pretty little lady standing in my kitchen,” he called to nobody in particular, making it seem as though we were in an actual bar.  
I laughed at his antics, feeling myself lean into him flirtatiously. Was he drunk? Was I drunk? He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it gently, looking up at me as his head bent, releasing me and telling me to sit down. “Make yourself at home, love.”  
“So this is your house, then?” I asked as I pulled up a wooden chair to the matching wooden table. The spot on the back of my hand where he had kissed was burning in my lap.  
“Lovely little place, isn’t it?” He glanced at me over one of his shoulders as he reached into a cupboard for glasses.  
I felt myself blush again. I knew I was desperate for male attention, but not so desperate that I’d blush as everything one said to me. Maybe he was just good.  
“Yes, love,” he hummed, “my house. How d’you like it?”  
I watched him as he mixed the brandy, his fingers careful and meticulous in doing so. “It’s a bit noisy right now,” I noted, thinking of the incredibly busy front room. “A little smoky, too.”  
The last remark earned a chuckle from him. “Love, it’s as smoky as a forest on fire out there. And just as domestic.”  
I felt myself grin. He brought the drinks over, and to my surprise took a seat next to me. I’d been so sure that as soon as the drinks were made, he’d return to the party, surely he’d just been being a polite host.  
In a lower, huskier tone he added, “I’ll have to get you over here when it’s not infiltrated with a bunch of drunk, weed-smoking art students, mm?”  
The sharp breath inwards that I took was involuntary, but resulted in a smirk from my company. At a loss for words, I took a sip of the drink, trying not to gag at the burn it left in my throat. “This is good,” I told him, and it really was, relatively. Better than any alcohol I’d had before.  
His eyes looked thoughtful as he looked at me. “Of course it is, I made it.”  
I elbowed him playfully. “Such confidence in your abilities. What if I was lying?”  
Gently, he shoved me back. “I’d sure hope not. We’ve known each other for a considerable amount of time now.”  
I heard myself giggle. “A whole five minutes.”  
He took a single swing of the alcohol, quickly downing the whole thing. His hand found my knee, exploring.  
“So, who’s the birthday boy?” I asked, leaning into him ever so slightly.  
“The birthday boy is sitting right beside you and feeling incredibly special in doing so.” He smirked. “Twenty-two today. I’m an official adult, with four years of experience,” he said, winking at me while sipping his drink.  
Shivers went down my spine. “Well, happy birthday, love,” I said, teasing.  
He scrunched his nose at me in mock annoyance.  
“So, birthday boy, what are you so proudly experienced in?” My cheek fell into my palm, my elbow on the table, while my eyes observed his chestnut ones.  
“Oh, if only I could disclose that information to you and still maintain appropriate conversation,” he drawled, hand sliding up my thigh. “Pity, pity. What are you, sixteen?”  
I slapped his arm in mock frustration and hurt. “Nineteen, actually, thank you very much.”  
“Prove it. Finish your drink,” he told me with raised eyebrows, his voice light with tease. “If you’re really nineteen, this wouldn’t be such an issue now, would it? All this slapping is rather immature.”  
“You’re keen on bossing people around, aren’t you?” I teased, sitting straighter in the chair, eager to prove myself to this devilishly attractive stranger with his hand moving ever so slowly up my thigh. Holding fierce eye contact with him, I drained the glass and looked at him triumphantly as I slammed it on the tabletop. “Happy?”  
“Indubitably,” He grinned at me, revealing white teeth. “Get up,” he ordered, rising to his feet.  
“Again with the orders,” I laughed.  
Wordlessly, he pulled me up out of my seat by one of his nimble-fingered hands.  
“I didn’t think you were serious. Where are we going?” I giggled, feeling giddily light-headed with excitement and drugs.  
“More alcohol makes for a better time,” he informed me, smirking. “That’s what the experts say.”  
“The experts,” I giggled again, taking notice of his hand on the small of my back.  
“Yes, love, can you walk to the counter without my assistance? Or shall I carry you?” His voice a low rumble, looking rather giddy himself as he bent down to offer me a ride on his back.  
Feeling brave, I jumped on, clinging to his broad shoulders as he brought us over to the countertop once again, pouring alcohol of all assortments into six different shot glasses.  
Without setting me down, he handed me shot after shot, we each took three, and by the last one I felt as light headed and muddled as I had on those late nights in high school.  
“Are we experts, d’you think?” I asked him, breathing in his masculine scent and feeling a little loopy but not really caring.  
He angled his head and looked at me best he could from our unusual angle, “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice a throaty growl.  
This boy I didn’t even know the name of carried me past the noise of the front room and down a dark corridor. His bedroom, I assumed.  
The walls were decorated with Elvis posters, a guitar leaned up against the wall, doodles lay in messy stacks across the surface of a desk in the corner, the sheets of his bed lay askew, the plaid patterns wrinkled and bent-looking in their disarray.  
He kicked the door closed with a slam behind him and I was thrown onto the unmade bed, and he towered above me, a projection of power. “Why, I don’t even know your name,” I told him in my best impression of a southern belle, giggling at how serious he looked as he stood in the dark bedroom. This was the last place I’d expected to end up tonight- at the mercy of a boy.  
Despite the darkness, I saw a smirk tug one corner of his mouth upwards. “That’s right, sweet thing, how are you supposed to behave properly when you don’t even know my damn name, little lady?”  
My heart fluttered again and a warmth spread to my lower abdomen. His voice was a ragged auditory sensation to my senses, desire emanating from his body. “John Lennon,” he told me.  
“Hello, John,” I murmured from the bed, gazing up at the man in front of me from under my eyelashes.  
“Hello, little girl.”  
“Ellie Arlough,” I told him.  
“Not tonight,” he said roughly, smirking, taking me a little bit by surprise. “Tonight you’re just my little girl.”  
The warmth in my abdomen only intensified with what John was suggesting.  
“Is that so, Lennon?” I asked, teasing, “and what does that make you?”  
His eyebrows raised in surprise at my forwardness, something I’d perfected in high school with all those boy that seemed incomparable to John in this moment.  
His hands finally found my body, aching with desire for him. They grasped my thighs tightly, making me squirm. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. I’ll take care of you real nicely.”  
John leaned over me on the small, twin-sized bed, making me feel inferior, feeding my longing for him with ever-increasing intensity. The smoky sea-spice scent of him became dominant in my nostrils as his strong hands moved to pin my arms above my head and the distance between our bodies became impossibly smaller. “Sweet little thing,” his voice a rumble in my ear,. “You’re all mine tonight, you hear me?”


End file.
